Reading a couple of recent articles on the latest upsurge of the civil conlict in the Central Africa Republic (I understand if you hadn’t heard anything was happening there), and an interesting New York Times piece on the militarization of poaching in central Africa, led me to reflect once again on the fascinating interconnection that exists between the various armed groups across Sub-Saharan Africa. Here’s a quick, dirty and non-exhaustive glance.

CAR, Chad and the Sudans

We’ll start with the CAR, as it’s topical. The northern rebels (currently going by the trade name ‘Seleka’, which in a local language means ‘The Alliance’) are quite literally that- a hodge-podge of armed gangs, guns-for-hire, militia representing disenfranchised communities (mostly northern), and bolstered by rebels who have come into the north from their neighbour Chad.

Chad has been a breeding ground for militant activity for the better part of 20 years and longer. Current Strongman President Idriss Deby seized power in the early nineties, launching from his home base in the far reaches of eastern Chad (Bahai) on the Sudanese border. His ethnic Zagawa militia swept across the country in a series of bloody battles, the remnants (tanks, shells, landmines, technicals) of which are still scattered across the landscape today.

Deby’s rise to power was supported by armed groups within Sudan. His ethnic group- the Zagawa- are on both sides of the border, in eastern Chad and in Darfur, western Sudan, and his coup d’etat was backed by Khartoum. Various rebel groups sprung up as a result of his seizure of power- which was brutal both from a military perspective, and from the reprisals wrought on the civilian population.

From 2002, two major rebel groups in Darfur, the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM) and the Sudan Liberation Army (SLA) became prominent in Darfur, fomenting an armed uprising against the Khartoum government. The Zagawa formed one of the prominent ethnic constituents of the rebellion, and Chad was implicated. Tensions with Khartoum quickly soured. Cross-border raids by the Khartoum-backed Janjawid militia took place into Chad. It became clear that rebel groups were using refugee camps in eastern Chad as an opportunity to rest, recuperate, and stage new attacks against government forces.

From 2005, a fresh impetus of rebellion against Deby began, with implications clear that the renewed support was coming from Khartoum, in response to Chadian support for Darfur rebel groups. Twice, once in 2006, and later in 2008, rebels (the same, or allied to those, as those now pushed into CAR) pushed all the way across the desert and showed up on the outskirts of N’djamena- where they were eventually supressed. In both instances, the government of Sudan was blamed. Interestingly, the attack was eerily similar to one carried out, also in 2008, by Darfur rebels, who pushed across the desert all the way to Omdurman, on the edge of Khartoum, before being overcome. Khartoum claimed the forces were essentially Chadian, and blamed N’djamena for arming the group. Tensions between the two countries remain tense.

The uprising in Darfur itself was a complex issue, based on similar complaints to those leveled by the southern Sudanese rebels, the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA)- a combination of economic marginalization, Islamicization, the centralization of government control, and access to resource rights and profits. Indeed, the rebellion echoed that of the north-south civil war, quite literally: Throughout the history of the Darfur conflict, rebel activity has followed from gains and advances made in the peace deals with the southern rebels (now an independant state). Essentially seeing the SPLA’s rebellion as ‘successful’, they resorted to a similar model for their own resistance against Khartoum, and as gains were made by the SPLA at the negotiation table, so military pushes could be mapped by Darfur rebels, trying to get Khartoum’s attention and force concessions in their own deals.

As well as using conventional forces in both the Darfur and north-south civil war, Khartoum has always espoused using proxy forces- militia groups that it arms and supports, but with whom there is a measure of deniability- particularly when they terrorize the civilian populace with torture, killings and ethnic cleansing. The best-known of these groups is the Janjawid, horse-backed ‘Arab’ militia allegedly stocked by, among others, prisoners released by Khartoum. The Janjawid carried out indiscriminate killing of civilians and the burning of villages, essentially forcing up to 4 million people from their homes in Darfur between 2003 and 2005. However the use by Khartoum of Arab horsemen in subduing and slaughtering agrarian villagers was well documented during the 1983-2005 civil war as well (the Murahaleen). Various different proxy militias- including previously southern-allied armed groups enticed to break away from the SPLA- were employed by Khartoum. Likewise, the SPLA (itself a fragile agglomeration of warlords and their private armies) employed similar tactics on northern soil.

The SPLA itself received backing from external sources. More strongly identified with East Africa than with the north African/Arab culture associated with Khartoum, the south Sudanese at the time found natural allies in Kenya and, notably, Uganda. Both nations hosted large refugee camps of southern Sudanese, who eventually formed an influential diaspora in those nations. This quiet support was further strengthened by Cold War politics. NATO interests in Sudan’s oil reserves (at the heart of the civil war) had it come down on the side of the south, and backing was funneled via the former British colonies of Kenya and Uganda, both of which helpfully became bases for the large western-funded aid operation as well.

Museveni, Bashir, Garang, Kagame and Kony

While Uganda was providing a channel of support to the SPLA, Khartoum’s response was to engage with its well-established tactic of using proxy militias. The technique depends on identifying existing divides within the target community, and exploiting those accordingly. In Uganda, an obvious candidate was a northern-based and highly disgruntled Acholi rebel group known as the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), which would come to be led by a sociopath called Joseph Kony and become infamous for its use of child soldiers, and horrendous crimes against civilians. Over the years, Khartoum’s backing of the LRA became common- if scantily-proven- knowledge. In doing so, Khartoum kept Museveni’s forces and military investment wrapped up at home, reducing the extent to which Uganda was free to invest in creating an ally on its northern borders in the SPLA. The LRA remained a major destabilizing force in northern Uganda from the early eighties and into the first half of the first decade of the new millenium- eerily echoing the timescale of the Sudanese civil war. Since 2005, they have been vastly reduced in capacity and influence, carrying out few attacks (despite an over-the-top web campaign suggesting the contrary), and pushed variously into pockets of South Sudan (where they were enemies of the SPLA), DRC and, now, CAR, where they are being hunted by a contingent of Ugandan troops and US Special Forces.

The links between Uganda’s Museveni and the SPLA’s Garang are well established- Garang died flying in one of Museveni’s helicopters after returning from a meeting in Uganda, the purpose of which is still unknown. While Museveni was providing backing to the SPLA, he was also supporting another regional warlord (who would one day also become President of his nation), Paul Kagame. Kagame, inspired by Museveni’s first insurgent campaign against Idi Amin, joined Museveni’s National Resistance Army (NRA) in 1981, and fought alongside him in that second insurgency against Milton Obote. For a time, the Rwandan refugee served in Museveni’s government as head of military intelligence, before taking the leadership of the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), a rebel group that prior to 1994 launched a long, violent and militarily highly successful insurgency campaign against the Hutu-dominated Rwandan government. The RPF had bases in southern Uganda, and received backing from the Ugandan government. Both Kagame and Garang studied at US military institutions during periods of their respective exiles, and Kagame also received intelligence training in Tanzania.

Hutus, Tutsis and Africa’s World War

The RPF’s campaign- which included massacres of Hutu civilians that remain under-acknowledged to this day- kicked into overdrive following the assassination of Rwandan President Juvenal Habyarimana and the subsequent slaughter of ethnic Tutsis and moderate Hutus that followed over the subsequent 100 days. A strong military force, their overthrow of the Hutu military establishment is lauded as a spectacular acheivement- indeed there are allegations that were it not for French intervention on behalf of the former Rwandan government, the RPF would have taken Rwanda in the years preceeding the 1994 genocide. Regardless, Kagame’s RPF did eventually take control of the country, and Kagame remains President to this day.

The fallout of the RPF victory was the flight of hundreds of thousands of ethnic Hutus, among whom were the genocidaires– the architects and footsoldiers of the massacres. These fled into eastern DRC, into camps and into the jungles and villages. While the violence between Hutus and Tutsis in Rwanda had largely come to a close, it continued in various guises in eastern DRC, and does-so to this day, between various splintered militia groups. These groups generally share alliances that can be broadly categorized as pro-Hutu or pro-Tutsi (although names and divisions shift as you cross the border) in a highly complex and shifting patchwork of old allegiences and new grievances.

The most far-reaching consequence of the Rwandan civil war for the DRC showcased the phrase ‘when Rwanda sneezes, Congo catches a cold’. Laurent Kabila, a pro-Tutsi rebel fighter who cut his teeth following Congolese liberation in the 1960s, re-emerged in 1996 to front the Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo-Zaire (ADFL), an overtly Uganda-, Rwanda- and Burundi-backed group that would eventually force despot Mobutu into exile and lead to Kabila’s presidency from 1997.

In all of this, it’s quite interesting to note that Kabila, Kagame and Garang all had close relationships with Museveni, who faciliated relationships between the men. Also interestingly, during his own rebellion to seize control of Uganda in the mid-80s, Museveni had actually approached Mobutu for military assistance, but Mobutu had been training troops loyal to the then-government of Uganda, which would go some way to explaining Museveni’s eagerness to support anti-Mobutu forces in DRC.

Nowhere was this interplay between various central African forces demonstrated- and with remarkably low profile- than during the Second Congo War. Dubbed ‘Africa’s World War’, it involved the overt engagement of no less than seven African nations. Following the initial installation of Kabila on the back of a Tutsi-allied army, backed by Rwandan, Burundian and Ugandan forces during 1996-7, their heavy presence in DRC subsequently forced Kabila to request their withdrawl or look like a Kagame puppet (not an unreasonable concern). Rwandan, Ugandan and Burundian forces piggybacked a Tutsi revolt in north-eastern DRC (Goma) in 1998, aiming to unseat Kabila (and no doubt install a more acquiescent puppet), and would likely have been successful were it not for the direct involvement of Chadian, Angolan, Zimbabwean and Namibian troops. Libya and Sudan were both indirectly supportive of the Kabila government as well- Sudan did not engage directly, but did continue to fund its proxy militias to worry Uganda, including the LRA. (Interestingly, the support of the Angolan government came as a result of Mobutu’s backing of the UNITA rebels during that country’s nasty civil war; the government victors were keen to repay the debt by ensuring that Mobutu stayed out).

The fallout of this interplay of regional actors continues to this day, with north-eastern Congo becoming something of a lush, mineral-rich carcass over which a patchwork of militias fought- and continue to fight. During the Congo conflict, Ituri and Kivus North and South played host to an orchestra of militia on both sides of the conflict, including the anti-Rwandan militias the FDLR, the Mai Mai, the RDR and the ALiR, as well as the remnants of the genocidal Interahamwe and other Hutu groups. Allied to them were anti-Burundian groups CNDD and FROLINA. On the other side of the coin were the pro-Rwandan groups the RCD and RCD-GOMA, the ethnically Tutsi Banyamulenge, and the pro-Ugandan militias MLC, UPC and other pro-Tutsi groups. Since that time, this murderous alphabet soup has aligned, split, rebelled, splintered and reformed into a variety of coagulating movements, all squabbling for a piece of the eDRC pie. Most recently, the takeover of Goma by the M23 rebel group (with ostensible backing from both Rwanda and Uganda) signifies that this regionally-interwoven conflict is by no means over. The tension for Joseph Kabila, who replaced his father after Laurent’s assassination, is that the regime he inherited was essentially installed by a pro-Tutsi coalition which expected to dominate the subsequent political landscape. By rejecting this, both Kabilas find themselves fighting against the very group that put them in power. Meanwhile, the Hutu-Tutsi conflict that reached such a bloody crescendo in 1994 in Rwanda has merely been exported a few dozen miles over the border into what is in effect a disputed territory, irrespective of lines on the map (and with horrendous consequences for the population; the 800,000 who lost their lives in the 1994 genocide have had as many as two and a half million added to their number from the forests of DRC since then).

I’m not even going to try to list the latest iteration of rebel groups and their alliances in east DRC currently.

The oft-forgotten child of the Great Lakes region, Burundi, is no less intertwined with regional conflicts. Stepping back a decade or two, it is riven by the same Tutsi-Hutu divide that Rwanda and east DRC are, and was a little-mentioned but insperable part of the 1994 Rwandan Genocide. Indeed, new Burundian President and ethnic Hutu Cyprien Ntaryamira was in Habyarimana’s plane the night it was shot down, and died alongside his Rwandan counterpart. Tit-for-tat ethnic killings between Tutsis and Hutus, which had been ongoing for decades, reaching a crescendo in 1993 when Ntaryamira’s predecessor Ndadaye (a Hutu) was assassinated by disgruntled Tutsi soldiers- preceeding both the Ntaryamira/Habyarimana assassination and the Rwandan genocide. Indeed the Tutsi-Hutu killings in Burundi in the lead up to May 1994 provided fuel to the genocidal fire, and the presence of Burundian Tutsi refugees in large numbers in southern Rwanda proved to be a destabilizing (and fear-evoking) influence that leant credence to the genocidaire case, as well as proving a ripe recruiting ground for Kagame’s RPF.

Conflict in the Horn

A pivotal nation less directly implicated in its neighbour’s conflicts, but none the less indirectly involved, is Kenya. At the time of its engagement in southern Somalia in 2011, its claim was that it had never before fielded its army (a claim to which some truth was subsequently demonstrated in its fairly inept tactical handling of the fight with al Shabaab). Be that as it may, Kenya has repeatedly played host to war-embroiled diaspora. Sudanese refugees in camps in northern Kenya became a recruiting ground for the SPLA to which Kenyan authorities turned a blind eye, and Kenya became a safe-haven for SPLA leadership at points along the way. Operation Lifeline Sudan (OLS), the mammoth relief operation funded by the UN and largely western nations (many of whom interestingly enough also had economic stakes in South Sudan) was also run out of Kenya, from the pokey northern airhead of Lokichoggio, and it, as much as any foreign arms transfers, holds much of the credit for prolonging the war and forcing Khartoum to the negotiating table which saw South Sudan win its independence.

Kenya also provided the home for the Somali Government in Exile, which has been based in Nairobi for most of the period since the fall of Siad Biarre in 1991. This, combined with a growing and restive Somali diaspora in Kenya, fears of a porous border, and alleged support, by Somali militants, for Islamic militants within Kenya, resulted in Kenya’s ill-advised military intervention in southern Somalia (‘Jubaland’) against al Shabaab- the fundamentalist group in tacit control of most of southern Somalia at the time.

Over the years, a number of different forces have been involved in the war against the various iterations of Somali Islamic militant groups, with Kenya the most recent addition. Uganda and Burundi have both provided substantial troop numbers (and suffered casualties), but the key player in the conflict has been Ethiopia, whose government essentially used the chaos in Somalia to justify a military invasion to bolster their own porous border, establish a buffer-zone, and weaken home-grown Islamic militant groups in Ogaden and Somali Region (Ethiopia and Somalia- both highly distinct nations with strong historical identity- have a long history of border conflict, and Somalia launched an invasion of Ethiopia as recently as the late 1970s).

A nation that allegedly provides support for al Shabaab is Eritrea, which recently faced sanctions for its involvement in moving Shabaab finances. Eritrea is possibly operating on the principle of ‘The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend’. Eritrea fought a bloody war with Ethiopia in which it gained its independence from that nation- after the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) initially supported the overthrow of the communist Mengistu regime in 1991 alongside Meles Zenawi’s Tigrayan Peoples’ Liberation Front (TPLF) as part of the Ethiopian Peoples’ Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF). Indeed Isaias Aferwerki, subsequently President of Eritrea and leader of the civil war, was one of the EPRDF’s co-leaders alongside Zenawi.

As well as Eritrea and Somalia, the other regional actors the EPRDF has relationships with are Sudan and South Sudan. Initially, the EPRDF was supported by Khartoum as it overthrew the Derg regime- perhaps because Mengistu was allowing the SPLA to use the refugee camps along Ethiopia’s western border as bases for R&R and recruitment for its troops. Upon seizing the area, the EPRDF emptied the camps and forced tens of thousands of southern refugees back into Sudan. This changed, however, upon consolidation of power, and by 1995, Ethiopia and Eritrea both had troops in South Sudan in support of the SPLA. To this day, Ethiopia continues to provide support to rebels fighting the Khartoum government, allowing an SPLA presence around refugee camps in the west, where recruitment of militia fighters operating in Blue Nile state continues. One of Ethiopia’s primary interests- and the source of conflict with Khartoum- is over control of the Blue Nile’s water resources. The Blue Nile provides roughly 90% of the Nile’s overall flow, rising in Ethiopian territory, and Ethiopia is in the process of constructing a massive hydroelectric power station (the Renaissance Dam) close to the Sudanese border- a move that has heightened tensions between Ethiopia, and Sudan and Egypt downstream.

Libya, the Sahel, and Transnational Islamicism

The other lynchpin tying many of sub-Saharan Africa’s conflicts together is- or was- Moammar Ghaddafi. With his view of a Pan-Saharan Islamic Caliphate, Ghaddafi poured billions of dollars in aid money into propping up friendly regimes- including (but not limited to) Sudan’s Bashir, Chad’s Deby, Niger’s Tanja and Mali’s Toure. Indeed, at the time of the Libyan civil war and Ghaddafi’s death, mercenaries from Mali, Chad and Niger were all present fighting on behalf of the soon-to-be-late dictator, and upon the failure of the regime, flooded back home to their respective countries. This influx of arms created rapid destabilization, increasing security concerns in Niger and Mali particularly, although both Chad and Mauritania have also had coup scares since Ghaddafi’s death. The fall of the Libyan regime is argued as one of the factors in the insurgency that has split Mali in half, which the French have just launched military action in response to, pre-empting a planned ECOWAS intervention.

The loose coalition of Tuareg and Islamist militias that annexed northern Mali to form their state of Awazad is itself a regional conglomeration. Tuaregs exist across the Sahara region, with the bulk of their territory in northern Mali, Niger and Mauritania, and southern Algeria, but with significant populations and ties in Morocco, Chad, Libya and links throughout West Africa and even to the Bedouin of the Middle East. The strong cross-border ties ensure that the Mali conflict has direct repurcussions for stability in both Mauritania and Niger. Meanwhile, Islamist groups, particularly AQIM and its offshoots, also operate across the Sahara region. Originally born out of the Algeria conflict of the 1990s and the insurgent groups that rose to oppose the government, they now have operational reach in Niger, Mali, Mauritania, Chad, Algeria and Libya and beyond, in a complex presence that is part insurgency, part fundamentalist terrorism, and part criminality.

While long rumoured, the conflict in Mali also led to renewed claims of a partnership between AQIM and its partners, and the Nigerian militant group Boko Haram, fighting a domestic insurgency in Nigeria to create a Sharia-based state in the north of that nation. Reports that Boko Haram fighters were supporting operations in Gao provided some confirmation that Boko Haram and AQIM share resources and information in their mutual jihads. Boko Haram has also publically announced its ties to Somalia’s al Shabaab, which in turn is networked to militant Islamic groups in Kenya and Uganda, as well as to global fundamentalist groups outside the African continent.

The below map is a rough and only partial representation of some of the relationships described above- more to visually demonstrate linkages across geography than to provide accurate detail. You’ll need to click on it to view large enough to read properly.

Note that you could carry out a similar analysis on a much smaller scale in any one of the individual conflict-zones, such as Darfur, east DRC or Sudan/South Sudan- which details I have not gone into here.

Strongman Politics, Statehood and Postcolonial Identity

The incredible array of cross-border interactions and networks that embody conflict in sub-Saharan Africa is hardly surprising. A relatively small number of individuals have a very extensive impact on conflict. Museveni supported Garang in his fight against Bashir, who in return funded the LRA in Uganda against Museveni. Museveni equally fought alongside Kagame in Uganda’s domestic conflicts, and so supported his former compatriot in Kagame’s own struggles, first in Rwanda, and subsequently in DRC. Kagame and Museveni together installed Kabila, who then rejected their influence, creating a new conflict. Meanwhile Bashir, as well as fighting Garang in the south, initially supported both Deby and Zenawi in their respective rebellions, but finding himself at odds with both, after Deby invested in the Darfur conflict to shore up his borders, and Zenawi took sides with Garang. Zenawi found himself at odds with Afewerki, and also took the opportunity to secure his borders with Somalia, taking on al Shabaab in the process. Meanwhile, Ghaddafi’s influence provided some facade of stability to several sub-Saharan nations, supporting Bashir, Deby, Tandja and Toure, and with his death, all four nations have experienced an increase in instability.

The concept of the Strongman has a dominant presence in the politics of most sub-Saharan African states. The cultural context is often described as embodying a ‘power/fear’ paradigm (contrasted with the notion of ‘guilt/innocence’ that is commonplace in most European cultures, or ‘honour/shame’ that is found across the Middle East and much of Asia). The development of society for many centuries has in many parts of the region revolved around a single strong leader who takes responsibility variously for family, clan and tribal groups, and this has translated into state-level politics.

The colonial division and subsequent post-colonial devolvement of sub-Saharan African politics and identity is both a part of the problem, and goes a long way to explaining this highly integrated conflict dynamic. State borders are lines drawn on a map by colonial surveyors and clashing European powers. They cut across traditional boundaries, creating situations (as in Rwanda/DRC, for just one of many examples) where ethnic groups are subsequently split by an arbitrary international boundary. Thus war on one side of the boundary naturally spills across the other. Alliances between self-identifying ethnic groups are far stronger than those to nation-state governments in many cases, resulting in the mutli-national involvement so often seen.

Indeed the very nature of ethnic identity in sub-Saharan Africa is problematic. In part it is a construct of the colonial period, where the notion of ‘divide and conquer’ was used to administer restive provinces. People-groups were identified and given artificial containment (see tribal groups in Kenya under the British, and Hutu/Tutsi identity as reinforced by the Belgians). Divisions that were malleable and interchangeable at best prior to colonial rule became reinforced in order to create some kind of order. Where once, ethnic identity could be redefined according to marriage or economic status, it had now become something linked to birthright, some genetic trait unchangeable and therefore open to exploitation. Thus have been born many of Africa’s post-colonial conflicts.

This post is by no means an exhaustive list of alliances. I’ve barely scratched the surface of the dizzying acronym maelstrom that identifies the various players in today’s war-zones, never mind those of the last thirty years. In 2007 there were nearly 30 armed groups operating in Darfur alone- many with ties to other groups in other parts of Sudan, South Sudan, Chad and CAR. A similar number of militia groups existed in South Sudan at the birth of its statehood- most of which were subsumed into the new South Sudanese armed forces, but which retain discrete identities within that force, ready to break out should their agendas be compromised. Then there are the proxy militias on both sides of the north-south Border, the various disgruntled insurgency groups within Ethiopia who claim ties to various other disgruntlecies across the region, and the veritable sea of militias, proto-militias, startup-militias and mom-and-pop militias in the jungles of DRC.

To name a few.

Without wishing to turn something with terrible and far-reaching consequences into an academic whimsy, I have long found the interaction between the various conflicts (and their masterminds) in sub-Saharan Africa fascinating, and it’s been interesting mapping them out for this little exercise. What I hope it demonstrates is the extreme complexity in understanding conflict in Africa; the need for careful analysis, both in terms of motivation and in terms of stakeholders involved; a greater appreciation for the diversity that this continent (or rather, the particular chunk of it reflected in this post) exhibits; and hopefully, a nuanced understanding that conflict in ‘Africa’ doesn’t just happen because it’s the ‘dark continent’- or any one of the newer myriad of tropes the media unconciously trots out when it covers ‘yet another’ African war. Rather, as with any conflict, there is a highly intricate set of circumstances, histories, identities, motivations and participants that coalesce to give a particular event at a particular point in time.

A disclaimer: This post doesn’t address any of the complex linkages to forces outside the African continent, such as politics of the Cold War during the 80s, or subsequently, the newer dynamics of neocolonialist power-games and players, such as China’s economic imperialism, or the US and its allies in their ongoing investment as part of the ‘Global War on Terror’- all highly complex networks that fuel conflict. Likewise I haven’t touched on the dynamics of post-independence conflict in southern Africa, which reverberate up into DRC, ROC and elsewhere, or the conflicts in West Africa, such as the nexus between Cote d’Ivoire, Liberia, Sierra Leone and Guinea-Conakry (with destabilizing influences into Burkina, Ghana, Niger, Mali and elsewhere). And I’ve barely referenced the Arab Spring that ties all North African nations together, including tying in to Bashir’s Khartoum, and weakening that regime’s position vis-a-vis its ability even to manage its southern ‘problem’. Here, I’ve just focused on the central/east regions of the continent, but maybe sometime I’ll expand broader.

Also, apologies again for the lack of URLs in this post. There are HEAPS of sources I pulled drawing this together, gradually over several weeks of reading and pondering, but my internet connectivity out here is poor and going back to catalogue them all has been impossible. If I get a chance to update this again in the future, I’ll see what I can do to fix that.

Finally- I’m pretty sure that Kenya was substantially implicated in supporting Kagame and the RPF on some level during the early 90s, but I couldn’t dig up any sources that explicitly outlined this relationship. If you come across anything, please could you post a link/source/theory in the comments below- thanks!

I’m not a fan of photographs from windows- any windows- as a rule, but when you’re in the field you spend so much time in four-by-fours (see Field Visit Bingo) that sometimes, you have no choice.

Shots from car windows tend to be bland and blurry. It’s a rule of thumb in landscape photography that you don’t take a landscape from where you are, but you move into the landscape to take the photo. Very rarely do the elements line up to give you the right composition- and when they do, they’re usually shooting by so fast that if you’re late by a tenth of a second you miss the moment, and if the shutter speed isn’t high enough, they blur right out. It’s rare to get a sharp image- although by shooting more forwards and less sideways, you reduce the movement of the landscape relative to yourself.

For me, the above image, snapped from a speeding Land Cruiser several hours out of Nairobi, isn’t perfect- but it somehow works for all its imperfections. There’s no hiding what it is- a photo taken hanging out of a car window: the location of the cyclists and the little corner of road make that clear. The foreground is blurred, and the cyclists moreso. The rear tyre of the second cyclist has been clipped by the edge of the frame, and there’s even a little lens-flare catching against the low sun.

But I love the elements. It was a gorgeous sunset, and the sky and terrain were both full of drama. The cyclists- one in a football shirt- are typical of the area and tell their own story about place. And I actually think their blur adds something to the image, a sense of moving towards a brighter horizon. For all its quirks, I was pleased with how this shot turned out.

I love Baobab Trees. Their bulbous trunks and gnarled, clawing limbs make such a stark profile in a landscape often dominated by low scrub and dry grasses. They have an odd, distorted sort of form, and even the way their name comes off the lips- round and taut and satisfying- seems to reflect their tub-like demeanour. They’re such a feature of so many African landscapes, they’re deeply evocative to me.

I took this little series that follows out of a moving car window in southern Kenya. It’s a general no-no for me in photography, but sometimes, especially on field visits where you spend so much time in running up and down the countryside in a vehicle, you don’t have much option.

We were lucky enough to have a moody skyscape to provide as a backdrop, so I exposed for the sky and let the trees stand in silhouette. This had the added advantage of requiring a faster shutter-speed, reducing the foreground blur. Two rules of thumb, if you have to take pictures from a car window: First, the faster the shutter speed, obviously, the lower the blur- so try and maximise this. Second, due to the relative motion of the landscape past the car, objects nearest the car (e.g. pedestrians) will blur more than those further away (e.g. mountains), so try and ensure that the object you’re shooting at isn’t right outside the car window, and if possible cut out the objects closer to the car in favour of those further away.

As the sun went behind the clouds towards the end of the afternoon, the effect was beautiful, with beams of light breaking out across the sky. It was a memorable drive, and while I would much have preferred to stop every few minutes to take proper photos of the glorious landscape, at least I have a few visual mementos of a trip across one of my favourite countries in the world.

In true Global Nomad style, friend Mads, who is currently spending 9 months travelling around Latin America, managed to show up in Antigua the same week I was there, so we took a little time to wander round the town with our cameras. Random meandering brought us through the local market and to the bus depot. While hardly a premier tourist destination in itself (save for those entering and exiting the town via public bus), the combination of dark skies, shoddy foreground, and bright colours on the bodies of the buses themselves, all made for a creative and alternative photographic diversion.

It’s fun to see how buses get treated in different parts of the world. Highly functional in the west, in poorer countries they are a capital investment of the highest order for middle-sized businessmen, and can be highly lucrative once a service and line can be well established. They are both a source of blessing (income), and a magnet for all kinds of superstition and fear given their propensity to crash in many of these places, with high fatality rates associated.

My first real exposure to the world of colourful buses was in Nairobi in 2001. Their minibuses are called ‘Matatus’ (a derivative of the kiswahili word for ‘three’- ‘tatu’- after the original cost of a fare, three shillings. Tatu itself has its roots in the Arabic word for three, ‘thalaatha’, Kiswahili being a trade language derived from a mix of Arabic and the traditional Bantu group of languages spoken along the east African coastline). Matatus were a gloriously offensive expression of Kenyan street culture- painted in gaudy hues, airbrushed densely enough that the chassis could rust away and the thing would still hold together, and with a sound-system that ensured you didn’t just hear the Matatus coming, you actually felt them.

As in most places in the developing world, the fact that the Matatus were primarily Nissan and Toyota minivans didn’t stop their conductors cramming sixteen or eighteen people inside as a matter of course- four to a row, hips jammed together in the dense, sweaty interior, produce and babies and all, while the subwoofer vibrated your ribcage with an intensity that could pop a chicken’s skull. Competition for routes was severe- at times leading to violent confrontation- and negotiating the roads near a bus-stop was always a gauntlet to run. Driving was horrendous, however. The drivers were ramped on miraa (the local variant of the herbal chew khat, that comes over by the truckload from Somalia), helping them stay awake despite fatigue, and creating a false sense of invincibility that would have them overtaking at high speed on blind corners, with routinely predictable results.

With soaring fatalities, the new Kenyan government under Kibaki pushed through a set of gutsy reforms a few years after I was there, forcing the industry to be regulated. Routes were formalized, paint-jobs were replaced with a ubiquitous yellow stripe, sound-systems were limited to certain decibels, and speed-governors were installed on motors. This was, ultimately, a good thing, as the number of lives lost to reckless driving fell substantially. However I have to say that in my opinion, a little of the soul of Nairobi was also stripped away in the process, and in a city that needs all the help it can get to present a positive face, I felt it lost a little.

Kenya’s not alone in the colourful bus stakes however. Juddering through Colombo’s steamy streets during last year’s monsoon in two-stroke tuk-tuks, I can vividly recall the searing stench of diesel exhaust from the oversized, windowless Lanka Ashok Leyland buses, with hyper-real murals airbrushed front, back and sides. Sitting in the passenger seat of the rickshaw, my head would barely reach the top of the rear tyre of the beasts while the enourmous engine rattled behind its panels just inches from my ear in the claustrophobic rush-hour. Peering up at rows of resigned brown faces peering back down at me, I occasionally wondered whether the driver even knew we were down there, worrying at what was keeping us from being turned into a thin slick sheet of crushed aluminium.

For an altogether different approach to public buses, the Jeepneys of the Philippines are hard to go past. Like the bastard child of a 1940s army jeep and a decrepit stretched limo, these ply the streets of Manila in airbrushed hordes. Images of Hollywood starlets, soaring eagles, or religious montages cry out for attention off the sides of the awkward vehicles, rows of people crammed inside in the dense heat. The windowless sides provide what little circulation can be created in the crawling metropolis traffic, a mixed blessing in air so polluted you can pretty much see it.

Almost certainly my favourite to look at, however, are the trucks and, specifically, buses of Pakistan. Taking frivolous decoration to new heights of sheer gaudiness, the transports are wrapped in fabrics, mirrors, tassles and shiny things in all manner of colours and styles. Fringes hang from windshields until they seem to obscure the view. Swirling hues scream from the chassis to be noticed. Airhorns, seeming ripped from oil supertankers, announce the arrival and imminent departure of services. Loud Sindhi music blares from speakers while Urdu variants of Bollywood cinema flashes across a tiny television screen mounted at the front of the aisle. They are truly marvellous creatures to watch coming down the road- and if I ever make it back to Pakistan with my camera I’ll do my best to capture some.

For now, however, this series of photos are all from the jaunt through the Antigua bus depot, and I’ll have to leave your imagination to fill in the images that I can only suggest with words. But I thoroughly enjoyed this shoot, and a chance to explore a little of another nation’s culture, as expressed through the medium of public transport.

*So this clearly isn’t a bus. But it kind of fit into the vehicular category I’ve been exploring. And I liked the angle and curves on this old VW Beetle that was parked at an Antigua roadside. The Spanish word for car, ‘coche’ is actually from the same place we get for the English ‘coach’, synonymous with bus, so it kind of works. A hark back to the day when the word ‘coach’ refered to a range of horse-drawn carriages which early automobiles mirrored in form and function.

**Mads in Antigua, with a colourful fairground stall as a backdrop. The fairground backed right onto the bus depot (see the ferris wheel in one of the earlier shots above) and was colourful and in use, but very run down.

It’s World Humanitarian Day today. You may not have realised this. That’s probably for two reasons.

1) You don’t work for the UN

2) It’s never been held before

Without mincing words, World Humanitarian Day is designed to highlight the work of humanitarian workers and operations around the world, joining a long and prestigious list of other international awareness events in the calendar for the globally-minded which raise awareness around issues of international concern such as HIV/AIDS (World Aids Day- December 1), the environment (Earth Day- April 22 (US) or March 20 (UN)), breast cancer (which gets the entire month of October for National Breast Cancer Awarenss Month) , and pirates (International Talk Like a Pirate Day- Arrrr, September 19, me hearties).

Wait. That was a real word-mince.

The day aims to remember and honour humanitarian workers who have been killed or seriously injured in the name of bringing assistance to people in need around the world, and to highlight the ongoing humanitarian plights globally that continue, most of them largely out of sight of public awareness. According to a Humanitarian Policy Group report published by the Overseas Development Institute, 2008 saw the most attacks against aid workers since the industry began, with increasing trends towards the politicisation of attacks, and the kidnapping of expatriates for ransom in many parts of the world. It is now statistically more dangerous to work as a humanitarian worker than it is to be a UN Peacekeeping soldier.

I should have joined the army.

On August 19 2003, the humanitarian world was changed forever. An Iraqi truck bomber drove into the UN headquarters in Baghdad and blew himself up, together with 22 humanitarian workers, including the UN’s representative in Iraq, Sergio Vieira de Mello. While not the first time aid workers had been targeted, this was the first time the UN had been directly attacked, and marked a shift in perception that aid workers were no longer neutral contributors to the innocent needy, but had become a part of the political landscape and, by inference, a legitimate target in conflict. A few weeks later, the sentiment was reinforced when the Red Cross headquarters was similarly bombed. Within twelve months, nearly all humanitarian operations inside Iraq, helping millions of displaced people, had been suspended for security reasons.

I remember the morning of the 19th quite well. I had only been working in the industry for a few months at that time, but I remember coming in to a very quiet office here in Melbourne. A friend and team-mate was based in Baghdad at the time, and people hearing the news had been instantly concerned for him. In the event, he was fine. He had left the UN building just an hour prior to the bombing, however, and I’m sure he remembers the day far more vividly than I do.

As an aid worker I’ve been very lucky, in that I haven’t lost any personal friends to violence in the field. Many of my own friends and colleagues have not been so lucky. Although the numbers of aid workers killed in the line of duty is relatively small (in 2008, 122 aid workers were killed, 76 injured and 62 kidnapped), we’re a small community.

The saddest issue perhaps centres on the fact that aid workers are now being increasingly deliberately targeted. Issues of impartiality and humanitarian space (both of which I have, or will, discuss elsewhere) have clouded our landscape. Factions with grievances and guns see us as part of the problem, not necessarily as a solution. Countries wreacked by chronic insecurity (what we once called civil war) such as Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Somalia and Sudan, are particularly difficult places to work. Last week a team of ours flew back into central Somalia after being evacuated for security reasons. Within four days of their return, a neighbouring humanitarian compound had been attacked and three people killed (for once, the attackers). Kidnapping international aid workers in these places is now a fantastic revenue stream for armed groups struggling to raise money to buy weapons and explosives. It’s often hard to see where political insurgence ends and profiteering begins.

I’ve also been lucky in that I have survived my own run-in with targeted violence in the field, and in a situation where, looking at the circumstances, I probably shouldn’t have come away unscathed. That, too, is subject of another post. But on this World Humanitarian Day, when we think of aid workers who have been injured or killed in the line of duty, I think of my three colleagues with me in the car that day nearly two years ago, Mohammed, Essam and Abdul-Rahman, all of whom were shot and wounded. While two have made full recoveries, the third continues to struggle with a lasting physical disability as a result of the incident. While we are all grateful to be alive, he in particular will continue to carry the scars of his decision to work to help people in need.

One of the biggest challenges we face in the humantarian world is the sheer lack of awareness of what is happening in the wider world. Unless (like me) you’re a relief junkie, most people tend to switch off their minds and their tv sets once news of wars and catastrophes comes on. Not natural disasters, mind. Big earthquakes and volcanoes and tsunamis get people excited. They watch, they’re interested, they’re sympathetic. But start talking about fighting in northern Uganda or unrest in Guinea, and they’ll quickly glaze over. This isn’t a criticism per se. People can only take so much of this sort of thing. But it makes our job- finding the resources to help an already desperate situation- so much harder. These situations of ongoing violence we refer to as “Chronic Humanitarian Emergencies” or, in our hip three-letter-acronym parlance for which the industry is so renowned, CHEs. And it doesn’t take too long for these CHEs to transition into the pool of what we refer to as the ‘forgotten’ emergencies.

These include places such as:

Democratic Republic of Congo– Fighting in the east of the country since 1997- an ethnic conflict spilled over from the 1994 Rwanda Genocide- has claimed more lives than any conflict since the Second World War, and hundreds of thousands of people continue to live in camps for displaced people, or fear for their lives in remote forest villages.

Chad– Hundreds of thousands of people displaced from fighting across the border in Sudan’s Darfur region continue to live in the camps they have been stuck in since 2002 and 2003, in desperately harsh conditions in the desert and facing the threat of violence from local militia groups- one of the world’s most desperate situations.

Northern Uganda– A combination of ethnic rivalries fighting over cattle and a brutal insurgency lead by the bloody Lord’s Resistance Army has left thousands dead, mostly the innocent. While the LRA has moved northwards into southern Sudan, insecurity between ethnic groups remains in the eastern Karamoja district, and the region remains critically poor and isolated.

Sri Lanka– A little under three hundred thousand ethnic Tamils have been displaced by fighting earlier this year into government-run displaced people camps which are more like detention centres- including the infamous Menik Farm camp, the largest such camp in the world today. Largely lacking in personal freedoms or any quality of life, the displaced people have been exposed to horrendous violence and repeated population movements over the last couple of years, but are still being treated with suspicion and like second-class citizens by their own government, and aid workers still have only limited access to them to meet their needs- in contravention of a ream of international standards.

Afghanistan– Nearly eight years on from the US-led invasion following the September 11 bombings, Afghanistan is a country that continues to be wreacked by ethnic unrest and political rivalries. A country that has effectively been in a state of chronic warfare since a Soviet-backed coup in 1978, rebuilding efforts have been tragically slow, and insecurity (including repeated attacks on aid workers) is currently on the rise again. The country is currently undergoing its first stab at democratic elections- a pivotal time in its history- but with the ongoing violence and staggering levels of political corruption, it’s unlikely very much satisfaction will be drawn from the endeavour.

Pakistan– One of the largest and most rapid people displacements in recent history went largely under-reported in international press earlier this year when, with tacit approval from western powers, the Pakistani government launched a military campaign to shore up the tribal regions near the Afghan border, ostensibly to root out Islamic extremism. Millions of people were displaced in a matter of weeks by violence which included shelling and aerial bombardment, and several months on, only a portion have been able to return home, while fresh displacements continue to occur on a monthly basis. Saddest of all, any gains the military might have taken by force will be more than offset by the alienation of the citizens impacted by the fighting.

Iraq– This one needs no real introduction, suffice to say that six years since the end of the campaign to overthrow President Hussein, Iraq is a country struggling to hold itself together, and while some security gains have been made, millions of people remain in need of basic services, including hundreds of thousands of ‘forgotten’ Iraqis displaced into other middle eastern countries, where they lack basic rights and access to services.

Darfur– One of the most complex and violent corners of the world, since a 2003 insurgency against the government took hold, releasing a counter-insurgency of ethnic cleansing and burning villages, hundreds of thousands of people are estimated to have died and millions displaced. Up to two thirds of the 6 million strong population require outside assistance to live, while at last count nearly thirty different armed factions were battling for control of the region.

Southern Sudan– Emerging from the better part of forty years of internal conflict with northern Sudan in 2005 which claimed two million lives and saw millions more flee its borders, Southern Sudan remains one of the poorest and most underdeveloped regions on the face of the planet. Gripped by long-standing ethnic rivalries, violence continues to disrupt development efforts and the political process, which is due to come to a head in 2011 with a referendum on whether or not to join with northern Sudan or seek independence- a move which in and of itself could trigger a new civil war.

Central African Republic– Bordering southern Sudan, Chad and DRC, the CAR never really had a chance. Hosting displaced people from other nations, as well as ethnic unrest of its own, CAR is the archetypal ‘forgotten emergency’- few people even know the country exists, far less anything about it, and there is little humanitarian support to help tens of thousands of displaced people living in harsh conditions.

Somalia– Since the ousting of its President in 1991, Somalia has seen little but violent militia-led warfare since. An abortive US military incursion on the back of a flailing UN assistance operation did nothing to endear the western world to the Somali community, and Somalia has since become one of the most dangerous and difficult locations in the world for aid delivery. The latest iteration of the violence comes on the back of an ill-thought-through Ethiopian operation to quell the rise of Islamic extremism, with the result that Al Shabbab, a conservative and violent group, now controls large swathes of the southern part of the country. Fighting continues to claim lives on a weekly basis, while millions of people remain in acute need of external support which can only periodically reach them.

On the right-hand side of this post, among the clutter, is a list of websites of humanitarian agencies, most of whom have operations in most of these crises. For those that feel motivated to respond in some financial way, I’d never presume to suggest what you should do with your money, but please consider these organizations as a starting point for your thinking. For those that pray, please pray for the people who are affected by these crises around the world, that their lives and wellbeing would be preserved, and for the humanitarian workers who help them, that they might have the wisdom and the integrity to use the resources they have as effectively as possible. Finally, I know that many people, when reading this sort of information, feel a desire to help more practically, for example through volunteering. For those that are genuinely interested in bringing their personal and professional skills to a career in humanitarian work, fantastic. For those curious about more short-term voluntary work, I’d like to recommend to you a rather interesting series of posts on the subject by my friend and fellow blogger J., who raises a lot of the complexities and controversies around this. Not to discourage, only to inform.

You can also count on J. for all sorts of other articulate and thought-provoking insights into the world of humanitarian work. And some highly amusing and frivolous ones as well. I highly recommend his pages to you if this is you area of interest.

One of the beautiful things about Melbourne is the surrounds it finds itself set in. Probably what makes it one of the world’s most livable cities. Perched on a sweeping bay, with sandy beaches just five minutes’ drive from the skyscrapers of the city centre. With some of the world’s most dramatic coastline- the Great Ocean Road, for example- an hour to the south-west, while to the north lie ranges of small mountains and, closer to home, vineyards set in gentle countryside.

Directly north of the city, closer still, you find hilly farmland, where suburbs melt into the bush and become picturesque roadside towns engulfed in seas of grey-green gum-trees, where galas and cockatoos flit among the branches by day, and where kangaroos can be seen sipping from household ponds as the sun goes down. Just half an hour’s drive from sprawling shopping malls like Westfields in Doncaster, the rural idyll couldn’t be more removed in atmosphere and setting.

I came up this way looking for something to photograph, just a few days back. The winter afternoon was clear and the air was cool but refreshing. I accidentally left my Melway (road map) at home- something I should do more often- as it meant that within fifteen minutes I was on roads I didn’t know. That I found my way out of the maze that is the Northern Suburbs is in itself a miracle.

I’d love to tell you where I ended up, but truth be told I don’t actually know. After getting onto one smallish country road, I turned down a gravel access road, and then down another, and quickly found myself wending my way down a narrow dirt trail lined by white eucalypts, while the late afternoon sun turned golden and flickered between tree-trunks, low above ridgelines quickly turning to silhouettes. Mailboxes dotted every couple of miles along the pathway were hints to farmsteads set on rises out of sight of the road. Green council recycling bins reminded me that although the bush felt isolated and in the middle of nowhere, I was still in easy access of the municipality.

After driving for a while and trying (unsuccessfully) to catch a shot of shafts of sunlight filtering through the dust in my wake, I came to the top of a hill and found this old wreck. It was lying at the corner of a hilltop paddock just by the fence, nicely accessible, and I couldn’t resist lining up some shots. Nearby was an old weatherboard shack also worthy of some photographs, but sadly the light wasn’t cooperating, so I focused on the vintage farm truck instead.

The light in fact did let me down- and these shots are courtesy of some graduated neutral density filters applied in post-processing which have allowed me to expose the darkened foreground without blowing out the sky (though a couple have used fill-flash as well). The gentle evening light was lovely to look at and gave the countryside beyond a soothing feel. The red colour of the rusting chassis set against green fields and landscape however is so striking, and I am determined to go back and find it again, when the light is fully on the vehicle and not lost behind the trees, hopefully reducing the need for as much work in post. But for my first photoshoot out, I was quite pleased with the result, and was given a beautiful sunset to boot. While I stood at another gate lining up the final shots of the day, a herd of grey kangaroos loped past to graze fifty yards away- they’re terribly tame, even in Melbourne’s environs. I couldn’t obviously take any photos of them, lacking both the light and the telephoto lens, but it was a lovely moment to enjoy.

If I learned anything from my little excursion, it was a reminder of how much fun it was to get lost. I must remember to leave my map at home more often…

So, once again I have little choice but to apologize for my utter slackness in posting lately. Not only have I not been updating my site here for a few weeks, but I also left what is a fairly drab and average photo at the top of the page- not likely to inspire my readers to keep coming back for more! I am sorry for abandoning you and being rather boring and self-indulgent therefore. Sadly, I can assure you it will happen again.

Anyways, I’m back to work tomorrow, after a 2 week break on leave and a full 3 months away from my desk here in Australia courtesy of overseas assignments. I’d love to say that I’ve been up to all sorts of wonderful, exciting and photographically titilating experiences, however most of my time off seems to have involved life administration (like finding a place to live, currently under-resolved), and catching up with friends. And while the latter is greatly more entertaining than the former, it isn’t much more photogenic.

That said, I’ve managed a few little shoots here and there. That, and I still have a few images from my recent time overseas left to post. Not to mention stacks more stuff from yesteryear drifting around my hard drive waiting to be uploaded. So all I really need is the time and inclination. I’m sure now that I’m back in the office and looking for ways to distract myself I’ll start posting again… ;o)

The image at the top of the post I took on a recent meander through the countryside north of Melbourne. More on that shortly. The the middle shot, a rather marvellous sunset we had over the bay on Friday night. And I’ve also managed to get myself extremely cold kite-surfing as well. So I guess my time-off hasn’t been a complete waste…

I look forward to being slightly more regular in my presence here for the next little while. And… thanks all of you for dropping by, I really appreciate having you drop in. Have a lovely day!

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